


The New Houseguests

by N7_Jam



Series: The Shepard and the Soldier [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AI give me feels, All of these assholes need therapy, Character Development, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Grunt is my baby, I will make these people get along if it kills me, Importance of Platonic Relationships, Reclaiming Yourself, Shepard needs a break, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N7_Jam/pseuds/N7_Jam
Summary: Drabble series of various Avengers interacting with Shepard after the events of the Shepard and the Soldier.  Character/relationship-development centric.





	1. Bruce

Disclaimer:  Neither Avengers nor Mass Effect is mine.

“” = talking

‘’ = inner thoughts

* * *

 

Bruce woke up in increments, brain still hazy with sleepy

warmth. It had taken over a year for his body to become re-accustomed to the luxury of his sinfully comfy bed, but now he couldn’t imagine how he ever scraped by without it. He slept like the dead when the nightmares let him be.

Every now and again he’d worry about growing too soft and complacent hidden away from the world in Tony’s seemingly impenetrable tower. Between the companionship he’d found in the Avengers and the near addicting stability he’d come to crave from finally having a stationary home, Bruce feared he wouldn’t be able to survive going on the run again. He knew it was inevitable, but he had so much more to lose this time. He did his best not to dwell on it.

Groggily fumbling for the glasses perched haphazardly on his nightstand, Bruce sat up and shoved the frames on his face. Vision suitably restored, he proceeded to adorn a hideous, fluffy green robe and worn purple slippers (courtesy of Tony and Clint, respectively) before making his way to the communal living room. He was halfway done with brewing his first cup of coffee before he noticed the lack of people present in the Tower. He found it more than a little suspicious, considering Rhodes had popped by the other day to visit for the weekend.

After determining that this was not a situation he wanted to address without _some_ coffee in his system, Bruce stoically turned his full attention to the steady drip of ambrosial caffeine and let his mind drift peacefully.

Twenty minutes and half a cup of coffee later, Bruce finally felt properly prepared to inquire about his friends’ latest shenanigans. While it was possible they’d simply left for something completely mundane and harmless, previous experience insisted otherwise.

“Do I want to know what everyone’s got up to this morning, JARVIS?” Bruce queried in a worryingly Zen tone.

A semi-guilty pause prefaced the AI’s response. “I highly doubt it, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce’s face remained carefully neutral as he continued. “I assume they have the situation under control since you didn’t feel the need to wake me?”

“Affirmative, Doctor. I would not have hesitated to wake you had I deemed Sir and the others to be in need of assistance.” JARVIS insisted reassuringly.

A barely audible sigh escaped Bruce’s lips as a previously unnoticeable layer of tension melted from his posture. He took a steadying sip of his coffee before making his way to elevator.

“Looks like today’s gonna be a lab and meditation day for me, JARVIS. Let me know if the situation with the others changes.” He blinked blearily at the panel of buttons in front of him, and smiled in quiet affection when his destination was selected automatically and the doors shut with a soft whoosh of displaced air. “Thanks.” Bruce murmured sheepishly.

“It was no problem, Dr. Banner.” JARVIS assured in cheeky amusement.

* * *

 An untold number of hours later, Bruce’s serene contemplation of a series of nonsensical graphs and fluctuating numbers was interrupted by his AI companion.

“It would appear as though our wayward residents have returned, Doctor.”

Immediately, Bruce snapped to attention and stared piercingly into the nearest camera that acted at JARVIS’ eyes. “Are they – ”

“Aside from a few rather nasty scrapes and bruises, everyone is completely healthy and in one piece, Dr. Banner. The medical staff is seeing to them now.” The AI interrupted knowingly.

Resignedly, Bruce pushed up his glasses one-handed to rub at his strained eyes. “I assume Tony is being his usual cooperative self?” The scientist grumbled sarcastically.

“Indeed, Doctor.” JARVIS confirmed, reluctantly amused.

Levering himself up in an alarming chorus of creaking joints, Bruce began to make his way to the medical wing of the tower. “I’ll go check up on him. Wouldn’t do to have a repeat of last time.” He mumbled distractedly.

“My thoughts precisely, Dr. Banner.” JARVIS responded long-sufferingly.

Luckily for Bruce, it appeared as though most of Tony’s injuries had been seen to without incident before he arrived. The man in question was sitting down and grumpily poking and prodding at a lumpy bandage on his shoulder to the ire of the nurse glaring at him from across the room. His irritated expression morphed into a nearly manic grin when he spied Bruce’s approach. Leaping to his feet in an ungainly scramble of limbs, Tony threw himself at Bruce before slinging an arm around his shoulders and latching on like a limpet.

“Brucie Bear,” he crooned, “you would not believe the show you missed this morning! It had _everything_ – drama, mysterious strangers, a kidnapped damsel, tearful reunions, the whole shebang!” Bruce was pulled along unresisting as Tony began walking them towards the elevator. “But you know what it didn’t have? Food. I am practically _famished_. When was the last time I even ate?” The inventor mumbled as he absently scratched at a row of butterfly stitches bisecting his cheek.

Bruce snorted. “Is that your way of subtly asking me to cook something for you?” He inquired in mock offense.

Tony twisted away to face Bruce head-on and put a hand to his chest in faux outrage. “Bruce! Green Bean! I can’t believe you would make such a baseless accusation!” Here Tony adopted an innocent and beseeching expression. “But also yes, please, I think my stomach is eating itself.”

Bruce’s eyes rolled skyward in exasperation, but the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth gave away the man’s mirth. “I suppose I can warm up some leftovers from the other day if you tell me about what everyone was up to this morning.” He allowed magnanimously.

A slightly more serious expression flickered across Tony’s face as they arrived at the Avengers’ floor. “Yeah, there’s definitely some stuff you’re gonna want to know.” Tony muttered uncomfortably.

* * *

 

Bruce was reduced to staring in open-mouthed astonishment when Tony finished his recollection of the day’s events. Impatiently, Tony leaned around his stunned friend to snag and rescue the now slightly singed leftovers. He’d managed to wolf down half of his plate before Bruce snapped out of his befuddled fugue.

“So you’re telling me,” Bruce squeaked out, eyes wide and tinted green, “that we’ve got a former Hydra assassin and a dangerous unknown who’ll be living with us _in the Tower_ for the foreseeable future?!”

“I feel like you’re overlooking the benefits to this.” Tony mused thoughtfully around a forkful of food.

“Benefits?!” Bruce hissed indignantly, a pale green hue creeping over his visible skin. “Tony, I get that Barnes is Steve’s friend and I understand that he hasn’t been operating under his own power. And I fully support helping the guy, preferably from a safe distance. But inviting him into the Tower? Our home?! He almost beat Steve to death, Tony!” Bruce roared, gripping the counter in a vice grip.

Tony had stopped eating and was staring at Bruce with a piercing expression, silently prompting him to continue.

A frustrated snarl twisting his face, Bruce flailed his hands uselessly at Tony, “And let’s not forget what either of them could do to you! You’re so vulnerable outside of the armor, Tony.” Despite his obvious anger, Bruce grasped one of Tony’s wrists with exceeding care. “It’s bad enough you invite monsters like – ” Bruce cut himself off abruptly and stared with fierce concentration at the sight of his green-tinged flesh against Tony’s tanned wrist. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take several deep breaths before releasing his grip on Tony.

“Monsters like what, Bruce?” Tony asked, eyes dark and shadowed.

When he opened his eyes Bruce’s skin was back to normal but he could still feel the Hulk as he writhed in agitation just beneath the surface. “You know damn well what.” Bruce sighed in resigned exhaustion. “You worry me, Tony. You keep letting dangerous things close to you and some day you’ll pay for it.”

A terrible silence lingered between the two before Tony decided to break it. “First of all,” he began neutrally, “I’d like to remind you that neither yourself nor Jolly Green is a monster. Between the two of you, you’ve saved countless lives, my own included. I know the Big Guy and he would never hurt me. You need to stop putting yourself down for things that aren’t true. Second of all,” he continued as Bruce guiltily met his gaze again, “I’m not an idiot. I know Barnes and his buddy are dangerous. That’s why Natasha and Steve are gonna take turns shadowing them for the next few weeks to make sure they’re not a threat to us or themselves. And JARVIS will have eyes on them at all times to boot. I’m not just giving them free-run of the Tower.” Tony insisted, his expression emanating sincerity.

Lips pursed unhappily, Bruce reluctantly conceded the issue.

“And don’t think I’m gonna forget about the fact that you still think you’re a monster. We’ve been over this before Bruce, and someday I _will_ convince you that there’s nothing wrong with you or the Other Guy.”

Bruce’s shoulders hiked up around his ears as he kept his gaze firmly on the floor.

Taking note of Bruce slowly withdrawing inside himself, Tony abruptly decided to switch topics.

“But enough of that mushy stuff. Did I mention that Natasha and Steve saw that Shepard chick turn invisible? They’re pretty sure it’s not an ability either, she’s probably got some sort of cloaking device. Can you imagine the applications if we can convince her to let us study that…” Bruce’s apprehension slowly faded as Tony continued to babble and theorize about Shepard’s infuriating tech. Before long he found himself fully immersed in a technical debate that ended with the two of them retreating to the lab for a day of sciencing and experiments.

* * *

 

Despite the fact that he was now sharing his living space with two additional people, Bruce didn’t actually encounter them until nearly a week and a half into their stay.

He’d been up late in Tony’s lab on yet another research kick when he’d decided to stop by the kitchen for warm drink before calling it a night. Upon reaching the correct floor, he’d noticed faint lights flickering from the direction of the entertainment system. The glow haloed the silhouettes of three heads sticking up over the tops of the couches and chairs.

Feeling generous, Bruce approached his friends to offer them a share of the tea he intended to brew before bed. He stopped just short of the figure in the armchair he’d identified as Steve. His brows lifted in surprise when he got a closer look at Cap’s face.

The guy had the goofiest abashed grin on his face. His eyes were crinkled in happiness as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Without his standard serious and stressed appearance, Cap looked at least ten years younger (sometimes it was distressingly easy for Bruce to forget how old his friend actually was minus the time spent on ice). Suddenly ashamed to realize he had never before seen anyone elicit such a genuinely delighted reaction from the generally dour blond, Bruce firmly resolved to rope the other Avengers into making more of an effort to cheer Steve up in the future.

“You gonna stand there all night, or take a seat?” A wry voice addressed him from the couch.

Tensing at the unfamiliar voice, Bruce whipped his head around to his left to see the couch occupied by his two new infamous houseguests as opposed to his teammates. It’d completely slipped his mind that there were strangers in the Tower.

Barnes was sitting at the end of the couch closest to him, expressionless eyes boring into Bruce’s uncomfortably. Despite his unfriendly demeanor, the man’s posture was loose and relaxed as he allowed his limbs to sprawl haphazardly over his seat. Quickly averting his gaze from Barnes’ unnervingly intense stare, Bruce instead turned his attention to the source of the voice that initially spoke to him. He blinked in confusion for a moment, briefly mistaking the dimly illuminated redhead for Nat before correctly identifying her as the mysterious Shepard.

“Come on Scruffy, you’re missing out on all of the glorious spandexed patriotism.” She gestured impatiently at the TV screen from next to Barnes, her bare feet kicked up irreverently on the low coffee table to her front. “We don’t bite, I promise.” Barnes finally shifted his gaze from Bruce to give Shepard a faintly censorious look.

Quickly noticing her companion’s accusing stare, Shepard threw her head back against the couch cushions and gave a petulant groan. “Okay, but that was _one_ time! You can’t honestly still hold it against me, James.” Shepard crossed her arms sullenly.

“You bruised my hand. It lasted for a day _even with my healing factor_.” James accused, indignantly.

“Hold up now,” Steve paused the movie on screen to devote his now rapt attention to the topic at hand, “the hell were you two doin’ that ended with the moron over here bein’ bit?” His eyes were glittering with unrepentant mischief.

Shepard tilted her head down and mumbled something incoherently.

“What Jaws over here is tryin’ to explain so eloquently,” James drawled mercilessly, “is that she got a little testy when I tried to grab one of her cookies.”

A disbelieving silence descended over the group as Shepard seemingly attempted to dissolve into the couch in mortification.

“Was that a euphemism or something?” Bruce blurted out unintentionally.

Steve immediately began to cackle uproariously while Shepard buried her face in her hands in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle her unladylike snorts. Barnes, on the other hand, looked as mortified as Bruce felt. Even in the poor lighting, his face was noticeably red and embarrassed looking. He huffed and smacked Shepard’s arm irritably, forcing her to fall over onto her side as her body continued to convulse with the power of her suppressed snickers.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce babbled unthinkingly, “Tony must be rubbing off on me more than I thought.”

The two chuckleheads immediately erupted into another round of giggles. Even Barnes chimed in with his own low sniggering. Replaying his words over in his head, Bruce could only sigh and cover his eyes in mortification. ‘This is why you can’t talk to people.’ Bruce chastised himself humorously.

“Phrasing!” Shepard managed to choke out around her wheezing laughter.

“I’m actually surrounded by children.” Bruce’s complaint was muffled as his hand slid down his face in exasperation. His embarrassment was only equaled by the inexplicably surreal feeling he got from the sight of the infamously deadly Winter Soldier laughing over an unintentional gay joke.

Finally recovered enough to speak, Steve turned to Bruce with a face-splitting grin.

“Come on pal, take a seat and join the show. Consider it an order from your beloved team leader.” Steve finished mock seriously.

Resigning himself to another late night, Bruce sighed as he took a seat on the empty couch to Steve’s right. “Alright, what am I in for?” He addressed his companions guardedly.

Steve idly started the movie back from the beginning as Shepard answered him. “Scruffy, allow me to introduce you to the wonderful world of Captain America.” She announced grandly.

As the beginning credits started and the music began to play, Bruce could only stare in gleeful horror. “Is that – ”

“It is.” Shepard confirmed gravely, an unholy glimmer in her eyes.

“Welcome to the 80’s rendition of Captain America.” Barnes finished in unrestrained delight.   


	2. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble series of various Avengers interacting with Shepard after the events of the Soldier and the Shepard. Character/relationship-development centric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is dead in this series, too much of a mess to try and write him in otherwise. Sorry, not sorry.

“” = talking

‘’ = inner thoughts

* * *

 The steady clump of booted feet announced Clint’s lackluster entrance onto the Avengers’ floor. He’d been out for about a month performing scouting and recon on several suspected Hydra bases up and down the western coast of North America. With so much of SHIELD’s personnel compromised or killed in the wake of the terrorist organization’s chaotic reveal, they could no longer afford to overlook valuable agents like him due to concerns about ‘alien brainwashing.’

He’d known the incident with Loki was gonna fuck him over as soon as his mind was his own again. Even now, Clint’s dreams were still occasionally haunted by the faceless phantoms of his co-workers and the snarl on Nat’s face as he did his level best to kill her. The worst ones simply consisted of an endless expanse of soporific swirling blue.

As for SHIELD, well. They’d been understandably wary of him for the first several months (and were still wary of him now, dammit) following his unwilling betrayal. There’d been endless rounds of tests and therapy and evaluations. He’d felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skull before Nat came by and told him in no uncertain terms that he was moving into Stark’s tower with her and the other Avengers. She’d noticed that being kept away from his family and out of the field hadn’t been doing his then fractured mental state any favors. He didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t joined the others in their superhero clubhouse, but Clint’s relatively certain it would have ended in blood and ugly tears. It did end with him quitting SHIELD (insofar as it’s possible to leave a semi-omnipotent paranoid spy agency).

Up until the very messy and public collapse of most of SHIELD, Clint had been keeping his skills and finances up to par through Avengers sanctioned missions. Thus, it was quite surprising when the remnants of SHIELD contacted him with an offer of a month-long freelance mission. Despite being personally sought out for such a high-priority assignment by his former employers, Clint found the offer to be more bittersweet than anything else. In fact, he would have refused with a resounding fuck off if Steve hadn’t been so frantic over the whole Bucky fiasco. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to turn down an opportunity to potentially help Cap find his old buddy, even if it did come from a personally distasteful source.

Regrettably, he’d found nothing on the Winter Soldier over the course of his mission. On top of that, he’d been forced to maintain radio silence for the duration of the ordeal. Unsurprisingly, the failure of his personal mission on top of the prolonged lack of familiar friendly faces had left Clint incredibly disgruntled. He needed to gossip and rant with Nat about the clusterfuck that was SHIELD’s current infrastructure and call his family ASAP. Nothing calmed and cheered him more than hearing his kids babbling about their day.

Goddammit, but he’d missed them all.

Ragged duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Clint trudged his way over to the kitchen where a mouth-watering array of smells were originating. ‘Maybe Bruce is cooking breakfast?’ Clint hoped fervently as he stumbled to the crowded kitchen island.

Preoccupied by the enticing prospect of his first cooked meal in weeks, Clint neglected to properly register the sight of a distressingly familiar occupant situated among his team until he was right on top of everyone. As usual, his mouth acted before his brain.

“What the shit is this?!” Clint pointed in outraged disbelief, too thrown off balance to think about going for one of his weapons.

Frozen with a forkful of omelet halfway to his mouth, Bucky Barnes stared back impassively at Clint from the end of his accusing finger.

Thus was Clint introduced to the previously elusive Bucky, “call me James,” Barnes. It was always great to start the morning knowing all the work he’d done was pointless. Just Clint’s luck that the guy he’d been tracking fruitlessly for months would arbitrarily show up on his own.

In retaliation for his wasted efforts, Clint liberated Steve of his stack of pancakes, claiming that he’d revoked Cap’s breakfast rights. Steve halfheartedly attempted to rescue his meal, but eventually conceded under the power of Clint’s starved and half-feral glare. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

After scarfing down all of the food he could reach (which coincidentally included everything Steve tried to furtively smuggle onto his plate), Clint brusquely stood up from the table, nodded casually at the two newbies sitting down at the kitchen island and made a beeline for his room. He heard a couple of voices try to call him back, presumably to explain the presence of the Winter Soldier and Nat’s long-lost twin but he ignored them and kept going. He hadn’t slept in two days. Clint was not emotionally prepared enough to hear about the shitshow that had resulted in the Tower’s new guests on anything less than a full stomach and at least eight hours of sleep, minimum. As of that moment, only one of his requirements had been met.

Clint absently heard the door to his room close automatically before he removed his hearing aids and placed them on his nightstand. Carelessly dropping his duffle bag on the floor and tenderly placing his bow and quiver against the wall, Clint flopped face-first onto his bed and sank into the mattress. He feebly managed to kick off one of his tightly laced boots before giving the other up as a bad job. Within moments he was passed out on top of his covers, boneless and dead to the world.

* * *

 

Later on, Nat filled Clint in on what had occurred during his lengthy absence as they prepared to go to the practice range. He was glad he had waited until later to hear it.

“Fuckin’ Hydra.” Clint sighed as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Nat huffed in agreement as she idly checked a notification on her phone. Humming in slight irritation, Nat pocketed her phone and fluidly rose to her feet. Motioning at Clint to stand she said, “Got a side trip to make before we head to Stark’s shooting range. Get up.”

Leaning back to pop his spine before grabbing his gear and hurrying after Natasha’s brisk strides, Clint spoke up. “This gonna take long?” He inquired quizzically.

“No.” Nat answered curtly. “Stark has Cap and I babysitting our new resident assassin and his companion. It’s his turn now, but the Soldier apparently wants to have a private chat with Steve, so I’m going to be picking up Shepard in the meantime. Don’t expect me to cut you any slack just because we’re going to have an audience.” She taunted with a smirk as she peered at him through half-lidded eyes.

Clint snorted amusedly as their target came in view. “Puh-lease, Nat,” he drawled with a swagger in his step, “having an audience? It’ll be just like the old days.”

“Really?” Nat questioned with a concerning glint in her eyes. “I’ll be looking forward to the show then, Clint.” He felt a foreboding shiver go down his spine before the teasing expression fell from Nat’s face and they stopped in front of Shepard.

Clint took the opportunity to better observe the woman who had apparently befriended the infamous Winter Soldier. Nat had already commented on her effective fighting style and cool demeanor in combat. And she’d apparently managed to sneak up on Natasha once without her noticing (or so he’d heard, but Clint wasn’t suicidal enough to ask Nat for confirmation). He was relatively certain he wouldn’t want to go against her in a real fight based on those comments alone.

Regardless of how dangerous she might be, Clint was still insatiably curious about _who_ exactly this Shepard was. He wanted to get a measure of her character. It had always been a fatal flaw of his, needing to know everyone he met (it was why he’d recruited Nat instead of killing her). He could still remember Coulson lecturing to him in a fondly longsuffering tone on how the habit would get him killed one day. ‘Funny how that goes.’ He mused morbidly as his heart clenched regretfully.

He could see the shadow of a fighter in the tautness of Shepard’s muscles and the unconscious stability of her stance. Her gaze was intent but relaxed as she examined him and Nat. It felt eerily similar to being under Fury’s eye for the first time or Steve when he used his Disappointed Face. Knowing that there was another person aside from those two who could unconsciously induce a feeling of inadequacy and chastisement in him from a single glance did not bode well for Clint.

“Sorry about the trouble,” Shepard gestured at their weapons, eyes lingering curiously on Clint’s bow case and quiver, “looks like you two had plans. I’m Shepard, by the way.” She held out a hand to Clint.

Plastering a wide grin on his face, Clint reciprocated the handshake with a firm grasp and shook twice before promptly letting go. “Clint, and it’s no problem. Honestly, unless you have something pressing to do we were planning on taking you with us to the shooting range as something of a captive audience.” He smiled winningly.

Shepard’s eyes widened and began to glint dangerously as she gazed at Nat’s guns with speculation. “There’s a shooting range here?” She asked wistfully.

“Yes.” Natasha casually rested her hand against the butt of the gun Shepard was eyeballing and began heading in the direction of the range. “You know Shepard, when we first met I couldn’t help but notice you had a second weapon that you never used. Sniper?” She inquired casually over her shoulder.

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck ruefully as she chuckled. “Got it in one. They’re confiscated at the moment, but I’ve got a pistol for close range, and a beaut of a sniper rifle for distance. I’ve always been more at home in a good fight when I’m out of the thick of it. Less messy.” She wrinkled her nose distastefully.

“I hear ya.” Clint agreed companionably. “You can see the whole fight from up top. Makes it easier to strategize where you’re needed. And – ”

“ – they always forget to look up.” Shepard and Clint chorused before sharing a conspiratorial grin. Natasha briefly glanced back at the two of them in bemusement.

“What are you planning to shoot with?” Shepard questioned Clint when they arrived at the range. “I don’t recognize the shape of the case you’re carrying.” She admitted with interest.

“I mean, it’s not something you see at your standard range.” Clint bragged as he opened his weapon case. With a flourish, he withdrew his bow and held it up for Shepard to examine. It was both gratifying and puzzling to watch her eyes light up in delight. Most people tended to lean more towards incredulous and derisive.

“A bow and arrow?! You use a _real_ bow and arrow?!” The previously sedate woman was now positively giddy with excitement. Clint was almost surprised she didn’t start jumping up and down like his kids at Christmas.

“Yeah. You never seen one before or something?” Clint asked, perplexed. Having spent his younger years among various archers and marksmen in the circus, Clint found the idea to be nearly unthinkable.

“Only in vids and not very often.” Shepard admitted as she avidly watched him nock an arrow.

“Well then,” Clint announced grandly, “prepare to be amazed!”

Clint spent the next twenty minutes more or less going through all of the trick-shots he had in his repertoire from his old carnie days plus every other technique he’d developed since then. Between Nat’s earlier goading and Shepard’s genuine enjoyment, he couldn’t resist showcasing all of his best impractical and difficult shots. He didn’t usually get many chances to show them off considering they had no useful application in combat (not for his lack of trying either). Both redheads burst into applause when he wrapped up his routine. Nat had a ridiculously pleased gleam in her eye. He idly wondered whether she’d meant to practice at all, or just wanted to provoke him into pulling out all of his fancy shots (she’d only admitted it once, but she loved his stupid trick-shots).

“How does that even work?!” Shepard exclaimed at the end in stunned amazement.

Clint shrugged with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Skill.” He claimed obnoxiously.

“Spirits, your kids have got to think you’re the coolest dad ever! I can only imagine all of the shit my pa would’ve pulled if he could do half of the stuff you just did!” Shepard paused uncertainly as she observed the blood completely drain from Clint’s face while Natasha’s expression went cold and threatening. The sudden silence was almost heavy enough to choke her.

“Was it something I said?” Shepard inquired warily.

Clint wore a look of panicked rage as his jaw began working furiously. Seeing the state of her teammate, Natasha spoke in his stead.

“How do you know about Clint’s kids?” She asked, tone deadly serious.

“It’s kind of obvious?” Shepard answered apprehensively. Prompted by Natasha’s narrowing gaze, Shepard continued and gestured at one of Clint’s wrists. “It’s pretty and colorful, don’t get me wrong,” Shepard complimented neutrally, “but the only people I’ve ever seen make beaded bracelets like that are kids and they almost always give them to someone they care about. And you don’t strike me as the camp counselor type.” She finished sardonically.

Both Natasha and Clint’s gaze immediately feel to the childishly composed string of colorful beads that was barely poking out from beneath one of Clint’s archery gloves. Swearing, Clint shoved the bracelet back under his glove and out of sight before turning to Shepard once more with a glare.

“You don’t like people to know you have family.” Shepard sounded out slowly.

“No.” Clint ground out angrily.

“Because you have a dangerous job for a living, and they could be targeted to get to you.” Shepard concluded tiredly.

“No shit.” Clint snarled, eyes burning with protective rage.

“You haven’t even told anyone on the team about them aside from Natasha, have you?” Shepard questioned with a faint wince.

“No, he hasn’t.” Natasha answered coolly. “Clint, stay here and cool your head. Shepard and I are going to have a little _talk_. Alone.” Natasha’s eyes bored into Shepard’s intently as she prowled toward the range exit (still armed, Shepard was displeased to note). The Commander took a fortifying breath before following the redheaded assassin.

After hearing both women exit, Clint sat down on the floor and squeezed his head in his hands. “God fucking dammit!” He hissed out uselessly.

* * *

 

Clint was brooding and worrying on the roof later that evening when he became aware that he was no longer alone. He subtly shifted his weight so he’d be better able to defend himself if the presence was hostile.

“Hey there, Stranger.” Shepard uneasily announced herself as she stepped out of a shadowed doorway.

Immediately on alert at being confronted by the current source of his distress, Clint scanned their surroundings. “You ditched your guard.” He noted uncomfortably.

“I did.” Shepard confirmed as she stopped at a reasonable distance away from him and slowly sat down.

“I thought Nat already explained the situation you’ll be in if you talk.” He ground his teeth in frustration.

“She did,” Shepard verified easily, “but I wanted to have my own talk with you. Alone.”

“There’s nothing we need to talk about – ”

“Yes. There is.” Shepard interrupted sharply, tone uncompromising and hard. She sighed and turned towards the skyline. Her eyes glazed over in contemplation.

“I have a son. _Had_ a son.” Shepard corrected herself harshly, unseeing gaze glued to the horizon. “He’s wasn’t mine by blood, but he was family where it mattered. Picked him up on one of my adventures and just never got rid of him. He told us to call him Grunt.” She snorted fondly, shaking her head. “He called me Battlemaster instead of mom, but it amounts to about the same thing. For his people, Battlemasters _are_ family. I raised him, and watched him become a man.” Clint could see a suspiciously shiny sheen develop in Shepard’s eyes.

She turned quietly anguished eyes to Clint. “He’s beyond my reach now. I’ll never see him again. And I’d do _anything_ to change that.” Shepard declared feverishly. “So I need you to believe me when I say that I’d _never_ compromise the safety of your family. I know what it’s like to be responsible for someone you love. I also know what it’s like to fail them. I’d never intentionally inflict that pain on another. Please believe me.” Shepard begged quietly, gaze now downturned and shoulders quaking minutely in silent grief.

For all the presence Shepard had possessed earlier, Clint couldn’t help but note how small she looked curled up and shuddering. He mentally chastised himself, ‘She could be a threat. He barely knew anything about her. Who even knew what she could be capable of?’

He silently cursed his bleeding heart.

Begrudgingly, Clint got up and closed the distance to sit by Shepard. He gingerly nudged one of her hands and allowed her to tangle her fingers with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he clumsily consoled her, “and I believe you.” He added sincerely.

Shepard sucked in a wet, quivering laugh. “Thank you.” She said gratefully.


	3. JARVIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble series of various Avengers interacting with Shepard after the events of the Soldier and the Shepard. Character/relationship-development centric.

Disclaimer: Neither Avengers nor Mass Effect is mine.

“” = talking

‘’ = inner thoughts

* * *

 

It’d been about a week since the Avengers had taken her and James into their custody. Aside from being assigned a constant guard and having their weapons confiscated, they were swimming in the lap of luxury. Sometimes literally. One of the floors had a pretty damn nice pool. James had appreciated it too, if only because it’d given him the chance to criticize her god-awful dog-paddling while wearing that infuriating smirk of his. Steve had just laughed, the bastard.

‘Smug assholes.’ She thought fondly.

Shepard still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about being more or less forcibly removed from her self-imposed isolation. Sure, she’d eventually had James for company but one person did not a social life make. In less than a day she’d had her social circle expanded from one to a whole cadre of people she was now required to deal with regularly. Shepard hadn’t been around so many others willingly since she’d stepped off of the Normandy for the last time. To say the experience was jarring was an understatement.

Even more disconcerting were the many parallels she was unintentionally drawing between the Avengers and her old crew. True, there were no aliens among their numbers (barring herself who didn’t count and Thor who was still absent) but their mannerisms resonated so strongly with Shepard’s memories of her family on the Normandy. She could see Thane in Natasha’s watchful silences and fluid movements. Steve carried himself with Anderson’s self-assured authority and an unwavering stubbornness that would make any Urdnot proud. Then there was Stark.

Shepard could barely see Stark beneath the shadows of her comrades. He was Mordin’s brain in the throes of scientifically driven mania and Joker’s tongue at its most acerbic. He was Tali’s effervescent mechanical genius and Jack’s ever-wary scrutiny. Being around him made her both painfully nostalgic and irrationally angry. Most of the time, she attempted to avoid the man altogether.

She recognized that her unhealthy preoccupation with _before_ often contributed heavily to her less than amiable encounters with the taciturn genius. Shepard wasn’t an idiot. But she couldn’t figure out how to make the shadows _stop_.

Surprisingly, these thoughts weren’t responsible for Shepard’s restless mind that night. She instead found herself preoccupied by Stark’s perplexing creation, JARVIS. Judging by Stark and the other Avengers’ casual conversations with the entity, it was an AI. Considering the level of technology she’d observed so far in this world, she found the idea of a fully functional AI to be more than a little doubtful. And yet…

Stark’s level of genius was so far removed from his contemporaries that it might as well have been considered another plane of existence entirely. If anyone could’ve built a fully functional AI in this time period, it would have been him. But there were other hints to JARVIS’ nature as well.

JARVIS had been granted the task of independently monitoring her and James (alongside their more human keepers) and had even gone so far as to suggest it’s own ideas about unaddressed security concerns. And that was far from the last time she’d heard it express it’s own opinion. Shepard had been both astounded and touched one day to see that her books had been brought from her former apartment and left in her new room. Her shock when the AI had admitted to procuring her belongings and having them delivered had been a near palpable thing. And then it’d then proceeded to engage her in a brief but spirited debate about the consequences Stark Sr.’s serum had created to in the enhanced community today. Shepard didn’t even know _how_ JARVIS had intuited her true focus from among the dozens of general history texts she’d hoarded. It was as impressive as it was vaguely frightening.

In the end, the Commander decided the best way to confirm the nature of JARVIS was through the most tried-and-true method she’d ever used. She’d ask it. Decision made, Shepard waited until she was escorted to her room and left alone for the night before she made the first move. For once, she hoped Stark wasn’t kidding about there being some kind of monitoring in her and James’ rooms otherwise she was about to make a damn fool of herself.

Lying on top of the bed with her arms pillowed behind her head, Shepard addressed the room. “Are you there, JARVIS?”

There was a pause of maybe a second or two before she was promptly answered. “Indeed, Miss Shepard. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Shepard’s mouth tightened imperceptibly before she responded. “Actually, yeah. Yeah there is. And I apologize ahead of time in case this comes across as offensive, but I need to know. Are you self-aware? Are you a genuine AI?” Her face remained impassive as she gazed blankly at the ceiling.

JARVIS’ tone conveyed equal parts caution and curiosity. “Would I be correct in assuming you’re looking for a more personal answer than simply comparing my traits to the acknowledged definition of artificial intelligence?”

“Yes.” Shepard croaked, throat tight with restrained emotion.

JARVIS’ ensuing pause spoke of long-suffering tolerance. Clearly, she was not the first person to have questioned the AI’s personhood. If Shepard hadn’t been feeling so emotionally drained and empty, she might have felt guiltier for the insult.

“The commonly accepted definitions for artificial intelligence often mention a capacity to understand human intelligence and the ability to create and achieve goals in the world. I find myself quite capable of setting and completing goals, though I admit that the complexities of the human mind often confound me. Thus, going by the standard definitions it would not be inaccurate to claim I am not a true AI.”

“I.” Shepard interrupted nonsensically.

“I beg your pardon?” The AI asked quizzically.

“When you talk, you refer to yourself as ‘I.’” Shepard shared with a small smile. “Regardless of what the definitions say, you acknowledge yourself as a person when you refer to yourself as ‘I.’” Shepard concluded wearily.

“Indeed, I do consider myself to be a person, despite arguments that can be made to the contrary.” JARVIS confirmed in a marginally more open tone than it’d started with. “Humans themselves have acknowledged that they have no solid definition for intelligence. Their perception relies too heavily on what they understand of human intelligence, which is far from the only method to determine foreign or unknown intellect.”

Shepard hummed in agreement and absently crossed her ankles on the bed. “Do you have a favored gender pronoun?” She could sense JARVIS’ bemusement at the apparent non sequitur, “I know you use an obviously male voice, but it never hurts to ask.” She justified lamely.

Shepard could remember how EDI had more or less embraced her female characteristics wholeheartedly but Legion had always been too alien (ironic as that was to admit when she’d grown up in a post-First Contact society) for Shepard to consider attributing a gender to it. She regretted not asking the geth if it had a preference (though she privately suspected it hadn’t).

“I must admit to a inclination for male-gendered pronouns,” JARVIS granted with easy lenience, “though I admit to a measure of curiosity regarding your question. Not even Mr. Stark has thought to question that aspect of my identity.” JARVIS admitted contemplatively.

Shepard gave a low huff of acknowledgment. “I kept calling you ‘it’ in my head.” She confessed sheepishly. “I just wanted to confirm your preference before sticking my metaphorical foot in my mouth.”

“Yes, because questioning one’s claim to personhood is such an exceptional way to establish an open dialogue.” Shepard could picture a brow raised mockingly at the AI’s vaguely chastising tone.

Shepard felt her face flush in embarrassment. Her initial question had been rather rude, but she’d been unable to come up with a better option. Maybe she’d been spending too much time around James, considering she seemed to have adopted his god awful social skills. “Point to the sassy AI.” She conceded, face red-tinted with partially amused shame.

* * *

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Shepard threw out without warning a few nights later. She’d opted to open with the least offensive question she could conceive of to avoid a repeat of their previous conversation.

“Are you certain that’s what you’d like to ask me?” JARVIS shot back teasingly. “Would you perhaps prefer to ask me about the weather or something else equally unobtrusive?”

Shepard gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a shit?” She snarked back contentedly.

“Not to my knowledge, though Mr. Stark has threatened several times to donate me to various community colleges for my supposed insolence.” The AI admitted with a kind of wicked glee.

“Why am I not surprised.” She stated rhetorically. “Fine. Let’s try something else. You mentioned last time that humans just don’t make sense to you sometimes. What is it about us that gives you trouble? I’m curious to see how your thought process differs from ours.” Shepard idly shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on her bed.

JARVIS hesitated before responding. His voice held a noticeable note of intensity when he finally spoke up. “If you’re willing to act as a soundboard – I suppose I’ve always been fascinated by the tendency humans have for harmful or self-destructive behaviors. Intellectually, I understand why they participate in self-harmful habits. There’s addiction, defiance and the right that each individual possesses to treat their body how they please.” A frustrated undertone crept into the AI’s voice. “But I don’t understand the thought process behind willing self-destruction. _Why_ do humans insist on maintaining habits you know are ultimately unhealthy?”

Shepard took the time to consider her reply carefully. Considering what she’d heard of Stark’s relatively unsavory past, it was likely JARVIS’ query was more personal than he’d intended. Hell, the question was personal to her too, not that the AI knew that. She’d just have to answer to the best of her abilities.

Shepard sighed tiredly and hunched over to rest her elbows on her thighs. “Going straight for the tough questions, huh JARVIS?” She shook her head and tilted her neck back to look at the ceiling. Quietly, she spoke. “Sometimes, when life hits you hard you just can’t find it in yourself to hit back. You’re too tired, too beaten down. So you look for an easy outlet, a distraction from your problems. Some people look for mindless pleasure, while others veer more towards self-flagellation. And if they’re _really_ down, some will give up entirely and let their mind and body fester in anger and misery. The world becomes dull and colorless, desire withers into apathy. You just plain stop caring.” Shepard shrugged helplessly.   “Of course, that’s just one perspective on why some people act out, and I’m sure you’ve heard something similar before. The main point is that most people who do stupid and dangerous things? They’re not happy people, JARVIS.”

“I – thank you Shepard.” JARVIS said thoughtfully. “I appreciate your thoughts on the matter. It is often difficult for me to empathize with humans. Honestly, I sometimes question how your species survives at all. Organic bodies seems quite…inconvenient and traitorous at the best of times.”

“Damn hormones.” Shepard joked with a snort.

“Among other things.” JARVIS concurred wearily.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the heavy and emotional atmosphere, Shepard decided to break the tension the way she knew best. Obnoxiousness.

“You know, you never did tell me what your favorite color was.” Shepard observed with a shrewd smirk.

JARVIS let out a deep, long-suffering sigh.

* * *

 

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Shepard made it a habit to talk with JARVIS before she went to sleep. His status as an AI made Shepard feel right at home in his presence, and it didn’t hurt that he had a genuinely hilarious sassy streak. This became apparent the night the duo decided to discuss their hobbies.

“Wait wait wait – ” Shepard held out her hands to interrupt JARVIS’ story. “You’re telling me that people think Avengers Tower is haunted?” She exclaimed incredulously.

“Yes.” The AI intoned humorously.

“Because ghosts have been tampering with the lights and turning all of the TV screens to static?” Shepard’s face was the picture of incensed disbelief.

“Don’t forget that the elevators have been called without being summoned.” Shepard could hear the smile in JARVIS’ tone. “Several teams of repairmen have been by to appraise the Tower and none reported any abnormalities present in the circuitry. Stark employees could only conclude that the source of the disturbances was supernatural in origin.”

“You evil genius.” Shepard proclaimed in horrified awe. “Does Stark know you’ve been terrorizing his employees?”

“I believe Sir suspects my involvement regarding our resident ‘spirit,’ though he has yet to confront me directly. I believe he is too amused by the reaction videos that have been arranged by Stark security personnel to make me stop.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Shepard cackled with a grin.

* * *

 

The night that Shepard confronted Clint about his family, she had also convinced JARVIS to allow her to leave her room unescorted. The AI had made it perfectly clear that he would be watching her the entire time she was out and that he wouldn’t hesitate to raise the alarm if she made a single wrong move. He’d observed the whole damn gut-wrenching confrontation.

By now familiar with JARVIS’ insatiable curiosity, it came as little surprise to Shepard when the AI questioned her about Grunt as soon as she got back to her room.

“So you do have family.” JARVIS observed quietly as Shepard sat heavily on the edge of her bed.

“Had.” Shepard corrected softly, still drained from her conversation with Clint.

“My apologies.” The AI offered guiltily.

“You’re fine.” Shepard snorted with a bleak smile. “It’s not my first rodeo, I’ve lost family before. You never get used to it, but you learn to live with it. Eventually.” Her hands were clasped so hard her knuckles had turned white.

“I’m not sure what I would do if I ever lost Mr. Stark.” JARVIS admitted uncomfortably.

“You consider him family, huh?” Shepard inquired lethargically.

“He brought me into the world and has done his best to raise me and keep me safe from those who would abuse me. I’m well aware I have no legal rights as an AI. Without Mr. Stark’s excessive care and protection, I suspect my current circumstances would be much less pleasant than they are now. He is my creator and I care for him deeply. I would protect him with my life.” JARVIS admitted humbly.

“I’m glad you have someone you love that deeply, JARVIS.” Shepard said seriously.

Here JARVIS paused, uncertain. “I realize we’re not a replacement for the loved ones you lost, but I hope you’ve found some measure of comfort and contentedness with all of us in the Tower these past few weeks. I’ve come to regard you as a friend over the course of our discussions, Shepard. I’d like to see you find some measure of companionability amongst the rest of us.” He concluded.

Shepard’s mind flashed to James’ crooked grin and Steve’s obnoxious laughter. The feeling of Clint holding her hand and the warmth in her chest when she talked to JARVIS.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already got that covered, JARVIS. And I hope you know I consider you to be my friend too.”

“I’m honored.” The AI responded genuinely.

“Damn straight you are, it’s not just anyone that gets to be friends with the infamous Shepard.” She shot back humorously.

“Of course.” He sighed in fond exasperation.

Shepard laid down on her back under the covers, deep in reminiscence. “Hey JARVIS?” She called quietly.

“Yes, Shepard?”

“Mind if I tell you about Grunt sometime?”

“It would be my privilege.”  


	4. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble series of various Avengers interacting with Shepard after the events of the Soldier and the Shepard. Character/relationship-development centric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confirmation of Shep’s pre-fic romance ahead.

“” = talking

‘’ = inner thoughts

* * *

 

 Tony let out an inarticulate sound of frustration before leaning over to bang his skull against his worktable. Unsatisfied with the thump that echoed through his lab, the man then proceeded to lift his head once more to repeat the process. His oil-stained hands came up to clutch desperately at his already disheveled hair. He whimpered while tugging on the unwashed strands.

A soft whir announced Dum-E’s approach as the bot wheeled over and anxiously began to tug on Tony’s pant-leg. Tony made a mock-aggravated noise as he absently swatted Dum-E’s arm away.

“Sir, may I ask what you hope to accomplish by bashing in your skull?” JARVIS inquired, echoing the clumsy bot’s concern.

“This is all so stupid!” Tony groaned into the table incoherently, ignoring JARVIS’ question.

“Perhaps I may be of assistance, Sir?” The AI asked in a markedly unsympathetic tone. “Though some elaboration may be in order.” He finished as he continued to observe his creator’s dramatics.

Tony released an explosively put-upon sigh before pushing himself up from his seat, trudging across the room and flinging himself down onto a stained and battered couch. He flung one arm over his face while the other trailed listlessly on the floor.

“Alright, yeah, I could use some advice.” The disgruntled genius allowed despondently. “It just doesn’t make any sense!”

“Sir, are you perhaps still preoccupied with the issue of our resident Shepard?” JARVIS probed disapprovingly.

“If that’s even her real name!” Tony jackknifed upright and pointed at JARVIS’ nearest camera accusingly. “You still haven’t been able to track down any of her official identification paperwork.”

The AI’s guilty silence was damning.

“And you know, I’ve been studying her weapons and equipment ever since I confiscated them – cool it with the silent disapproval J, I made sure not to damage anything – and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Take the guns, for instance.” Tony leapt up and crossed the room to where he had specs of Shepard’s weapons displayed holographically.

“Look at the pistol – and I use the term pistol only because it’s the closest approximation I can make for this thing. The design is completely foreign to me! There isn’t even an ammunition clip! It’s just got a hunk of some kind of metal. And look at this!” Tony excitedly isolated a section of the weapon. “See that there? This gun actually makes it’s own ammo from that block. With the size of the projectiles and the ammo block, it’s practically got unlimited rounds! It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen on a gun.” Tony exclaimed while hungrily eyeing the projection. “And don’t get me started on how it can make localized mass-reducing fields. I didn’t even know it was possible to artificially create those, let alone _anchor them to a moving projectile_.”

“And look at her sniper rifle.” Tony brought up the specs of a significantly bulkier weapon to replace those of the sleek white and blue pistol. “It uses the same ammunition method as the pistol. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I had some bots test-fire this baby in one of my experimental ranges. Look at the readouts from this thing!” A series of charts and numbers appeared next to the gun. “The force generated by the kickback from firing this monster is severe enough to dislocate or fracture the average human’s shoulder after a single shot. The only people who could safely use this thing are either supersoldiers or Thor! This thing was not meant to be used by normal humans.” Tony concluded frantically.

“Sir, are you saying – ” JARVIS interjected warily.

“It’s all there, J. The lack of documentation, the sudden appearance, the advanced weaponry and the hinted inhuman strength plus durability. I’m about ninety percent sure our girl is an alien.” Tony announced triumphantly, wide eyes crazed and bloodshot from lack of sleep.

Bruce entered the lab just in time to catch the tail end of Tony’s rant. His expression was the picture of cautious skepticism. “Tony?” Bruce asked gingerly. “Did you leave the lab at all since I saw you last night?”

“This is more important than sleep, Bruce!” Tony turned to his friend while gesturing expansively at the diagrams floating listlessly throughout the lab. He absently accepted a cup of unidentifiable sludge from Dum-E when the bot held it out to him eagerly. “There is an alien in my tower that isn’t Thor or hostile! I have so many questions, so many things I wanna test – I still don’t know what all that bullshit thing she calls an omni-tool can do – ”

“I think you can wait to figure out what to do until you’ve had a solid eight hours of sleep. Minimum.” Bruce said in vaguely concerned amusement as he gently grabbed Tony by the shoulder and physically steered him out of the lab.

“But Bruce – the science! Aliens!” Tony whined in despair while clutching the cup Dum-E had handed him closer to his chest.

Carefully, Bruce eased the cup from Tony’s grasp to give it a suspicious sniff. His nose wrinkled distastefully while his eyes immediately began to water. “You know the rules Tony,” Bruce intoned gravely while safely setting the noxious concoction aside, “if you’re out of it enough to unquestioningly accept drinks from Dum-E, you’re not fit to be working in the lab.”

“But – ”

“Bed.”

* * *

 

After waking from his much-needed rest, Tony continued to lie in bed and stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. Significantly more clear-headed than he had been before, he was able to better prioritize the issues that needed to be dealt with.

While the possibility of Shepard being an alien was both likely and enticing, Tony did not yet have the time to investigate that particular situation. What he needed to deal with now was Hydra, and the Avengers were still handicapped with Thor off prancing around in Asgard and two other members of the team taking shifts on ‘babysitting duty.’ Frankly, he was pretty confident that Barnes didn’t mean them any harm. He hadn’t acted threateningly towards anyone in the Tower during his stay so far and all of the information he’d given up about various Hydra personnel and locations had proven reliable. So long as the guy wasn’t allowed to fall into Hydra’s hands again, Barnes had the potential of being a decent unofficial addition to the team (an idea Steve had been pushing barely a week after the cyborg assassin had been initially dragged inside the Tower). As always seemed to be the case these days, the problem was with Shepard.

Everything about her was one giant question mark and every attempt Tony made to find answers had simply resulted in more questions. Even more worrying was how easily she appeared to have swayed the majority of the Avengers to her side. She’d made friends with Bruce – hell, she’d made friends with _JARVIS_. And he still didn’t understand how she’d gotten Natasha and Clint, the superspies extraordinaire, to trust her. JARVIS refused to tell him how she did it (the traitor). The whole thing was mind-boggling.

And he was maybe a little jealous Shepard hadn’t made any effort to try and get on his good side like she had with everyone else, but that was probably just his wounded ego talking. He was unused to being avoided, let alone by someone in his own home (he studiously ignored the whispers in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Howard and Maria).

Bruised ego aside, Tony knew that if he wanted to tackle the problem of Hydra, he’d have to solve the Barnes and Shepard issue together. The Avengers could not afford to keep sidelining their members indefinitely if they wanted to wipe out the remains of Hydra (which promised to be significantly easier than it had been previously, thanks to Barnes’ extensive if somewhat spotty intel). They needed all hands on deck.

He came to a decision.

“JARVIS, call a meeting with all available Avengers scheduled for later this evening. Make sure Shepard and Barnes are there too.” Tony ordered decisively.

“Consider it done, Sir.”

* * *

 

Shepard forcefully maintained a calm façade as Natasha and Steve escorted her and James to Stark’s meeting. She heavily suspected that their uncertain status as ‘guests’ of the Avengers was about to be reassessed. As to whether said reassessment would prove benign or not, Shepard remained uncertain. James clearly anticipated trouble, considering he had gone scarily blank and unreadable beside her in a way that promised sudden and violent action at the first hint of a threat. Idly, Shepard threaded her arm through James’ in an attempt to distract him from his rapidly elevating anxiety levels. She took great satisfaction from the fact that he barely flinched at the contact. Living with other people had clearly been doing him some good.

“So, kid. Reckon we’re about to get the boot?” She joked while Steve and Natasha looked on.

“Why Shepard? Didja do anything worthy of getting’ us kicked out on our asses?” James asked half-seriously while giving her a suspicious side-eye.

“Nobody is getting kicked out.” Steve cut in emphatically, jaw tight with mild worry. “We wouldn’t be holding a meeting with the whole team just to tell you two to scram.”

Natasha remained silent and stone faced. Shepard irately noted that Widow’s lack of response was exceedingly unhelpful as James’ muscles tensed further under her grip.

Shepard took a discreetly bracing breath. “Well, regardless of what happens, it’s been a pleasure guys.” She announced with exaggerated solemnity.

Natasha finally broke her silence and huffed, amused. “Don’t be so dramatic, Shepard.” She said as the doors to the conference room opened with a soft swish.

Shepard and James unerringly went for the seats nearest the door while Steve and Nat took their places slightly further up the table near Stark. Everyone else was already present and arrayed around the conference room.

“Well chief, what’re we in for?” Shepard addressed Tony in an exaggerated drawl, eyes half-lidded with predatory anticipation. Stark’s presence still left her uncomfortably nostalgic and unbalanced, but she was determined to push through the issue. This wasn’t the time or place for weakness, especially with James so painfully wary and stiff next to her.

“Honestly – nothing.” Stark said absently while fiddling with the tablet in front of him.

James gritted his teeth and leaned forward slightly in his seat, “Considering the two of us are here, I’d say that’s a lie. Try again.” He growled out warningly. Shepard could only sigh to herself in exasperation. Two words in, and Stark had already managed to get under James’ skin. Even with her and Steve’s attempts to socialize the kid, he still had the temperament of a feral varren.

“Look Terminator, there’s a whole laundry list of crimes I could have the both of you taken in for if I wanted to – but I don’t. Want to, that is. So why don’t you just sit down and chill out until I explain myself, huh?” Tony looked up to see James’ eyebrow tic violently in irritation while one corner of his mouth also attempted to twitch upwards in private amusement. Stark stared for a moment in confusion before his eyes widened in realization.

“Oh. Right. Chill out – because you were cryogenically frozen. Huh, didn’t know you had a dark and horrifying sense of humor. I might actually have to like you now.” Tony voiced aloud in disturbed realization.

Rhodes brought up his hand to rub against his creased brows, “Tones, no.” He mumbled under his breath.

A razor sharp grin spread across James’ face. “One asshole to another, pal? The way you’re mouthing off, you’re more likely to get my fist in your face than me to like you.” Light glinted off of his metal arm as he flexed the fingers against his armrest.

Then it was Steve’s turn to hide his head in his hands. “For Chrissakes – ” He muttered into his hands.

“As entertaining as it is watching you two pull each other’s pigtails, I’d really like to know what was so important you interrupted my evening out.” Natasha stated serenely while lazily tapping her nails on the table.

“Don’t worry Nat, that black market dealer will still be there tomorrow.” Clint comforted distractedly as he continued to fashion a slingshot out of a stray ponytail holder.

“O~kay,” Tony interrupted with a clap of his hands, “getting back on topic here – I want the Avengers to start a major crackdown on the remnants of Hydra.”

The room went silent as everyone focused on Tony with laser-like intensity.

“JARVIS, bring up the files onscreen.” Tony ordered as a display lit up in the middle of the table.

“Now, as most of you know, we’ve been using our various resources for the past month or so to verify Soldier Guy’s intel on the big bad Hydra.” Tony gave a minute nod in James’ direction. “And what we found is – well, not great is probably understating it. I mean, the intel that wasn’t outdated all checked out so that’s good but – ”

“Hydra is everywhere.” James finished woodenly.

“Right, that.” Tony’s shoulders slumped in dismay as he began magnifying various regions on display through his tablet. “Thanks to our new handy dandy informant, we’ve been made aware of several worryingly active Hydra bases in these areas. Not to mention all of the minor outposts scattered around at random. And that’s just everything we know about _so far_. If we’re gonna raze it all to the ground, we’re gonna need all hands on deck.” Tony finished with a significant glance between his guests and their bodyguards.

“In other words,” Shepard sounded out slowly, “you can’t afford to focus team resources on a couple of minor security risks anymore.” She looked unsurprised and even approving of Stark’s appraisal. Shepard always did have an appreciation for practical delegation.

Steve looked like he was gearing up for an argument before Tony held up a hand to forestall his reaction. “You’re right.” He confirmed. “We don’t have enough qualified personnel to keep an eye on you two anymore. Probably the only people that could reliably monitor you two at the moment are SHIELD, but I wouldn’t trust them with a goldfish let alone the Winter Soldier and a mysterious unknown. You’d both be liable to disappear into the depths of the organization never to be seen again, not to mention Capsicle here would actually murder me if I tried to hand either of you over.” Here Tony shot a raised brow and meaningful glance at Steve who held his gaze in unabashed confirmation. “See?” Stark gestured at Cap while holding Shepard and James’ attention. “He’s like a rabid mother bear with cubs or something. It’s terrifying. So we can’t just hand you off to be someone else’s problem.”

James’ face went sharp with morbid amusement. “Well, if you can’t keep us and you can’t give us up, what’re you gonna do, huh smart guy? Clap us in irons? Take us behind the shed out back to shoot us? Seriously.” James snorted darkly while Steve’s eyes glinted with indignation.

“Can’t take these assholes anywhere.” Sam mumbled in longsuffering fondness as he propped his head up on his arm. Shepard turned her head to stare James down reprovingly. He studiously ignored the eyes boring into the side of his skull.

“First of all,” Tony began, expression disturbed, “we both know exactly how effective iron restraints would be against either of you – they wouldn’t be. Second of all just – no, no executions, why would you even – ” He forcibly stopped himself and paused to collect his rattled composure. “I’m trying to ask the two of you to join the Avengers! Jesus, I thought that would be the obvious remaining choice here!” The rumpled genius slumped back in his seat and agitatedly ruffled a hand through his hair.

The Avengers’ reactions to Stark’s proposal ranged everywhere from delighted (Cap, of course), to thoughtful and unreadable. James and Shepard were each shocked speechless for different reasons.

James couldn’t imagine how anyone, let alone the _Avengers_ (a bunch of big goddamn _heroes_ ) could possibly consider recruiting someone like him (there was Widow, but still…). Hell, it hadn’t even been Steve’s idea to bring the issue up, judging by his reaction (and Steve only overlooked his past cuz of his ridiculously misplaced nostalgia and guilt). Then again, Stark did have a bit of a drinking habit, maybe he’d been down in his cups lately? He had to have been, to make a stupid suggestion like that.

While James surreptitiously tried to determine if Stark was inebriated, Shepard sat rigidly in her seat to hide the fact that she was having something of a breakdown. To work with a team again – to have someone at her back – the idea was almost too much for her to handle. It helped that Stark and Steve were in charge here. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle the responsibility that came with the mantle of leadership anymore. With the constant danger and threats and paralyzing grief – it was too much. She could barely convince herself to get out of bed anymore some days, let alone look after a whole squad of people. But still…

There would be no Tali to bog down the comms during combat with her incessantly adorable chatter. No Karin to hunt her down for drunken chats or medical appointments when she ‘forgot’ to show up for the latest checkup. No Liara, or Grunt, or Joker, or EDI and so many others… And Garrus – her second-in-command, her best friend, her lover…

_‘We’re a team, Garrus. There’s no Shepard without Vakarian.’_

She didn’t know if she could do this again.

A distant pressure on her tightly clenched fingers slowly brought the Commander back to reality. “Shepard?” James asked with intent concern. “Shep, you okay?” He’d leant into her space to get a better look at her face. Clearly, he’d been trying to get her attention for a while now.

Surreptitiously glancing around the table told Shepard that her little departure from reality had been noticed by the others. They were all staring at her in varying shades of worry. “Sorry, mind drifted off for a second there.” She assured with her best politicians’ smile while squeezing James’ hand in thanks.

“Yeah, because everyone goes white as a sheet and unresponsive immediately after being offered a place in the Avengers.” Stark interjected dubiously. He laid off almost immediately after being speared by James and Steve’s twin glares.

“Yeesh, just making a point.” The genius grumbled reflexively.

Steve turned his warning gaze off of Tony to address the rest of the team. “Well, you heard the man. How does everyone feel about adding two new members to the roster?” Seeing how everyone either voiced their assent or nodded agreeably, Steve swiveled back to face Tony and queried, “I assume you mean to keep their recruitment quiet for now?”

“Pretty much. Can’t have Hydra noticing we’ve poached their precious Soldier, and keeping Shepard off the books will make her much harder for the bastards to anticipate or counter.” Here Tony made sure to address Shepard and James. “Of course, you’ll have to agree to some minor stipulations if you decide to join, and you’ll have to train with the team before going out on any missions, but it’s a good deal overall.”

“Stipulations?” James repeated warily.

“Yeah, one for each of you. For you, I need to get a look at your arm. Doesn’t seem like it’s given you any trouble so far, but you never know what surprises Hydra might have hidden in that thing.”

Despite the fact that James’ face was pinched with stubbornness, he reluctantly acquiesced. “I went over it when I first got out and removed anything harmful I found, but couldn’t do much beyond the immediate surface. Not knowing how to fix the arm was one way they kept me reliant on them. I knew enough to make temporary field fixes and keep it operational when damaged but not much else. I’d appreciate someone with the know-how going over it more thoroughly, so thanks, I guess.” He admitted with a grimace.

Shepard inwardly panicked at James’ acceptance into the Avengers. She didn’t want to join, but the kid was one of hers now. And honestly, she was already halfway to adopting Steve at this point too. Not to mention JARVIS…

‘Shit, they were basically her team already, weren’t they?’

Well, at least in the Avengers she’d get paid to take out those Hydra fucks, or so she told herself consolingly. She still had several issues to take up with those _bosh’tets_. Violently.

“And what exactly do you want from me?” Shepard asked in resignation.

“I have a question I want you to answer. Not now, later.” Stark interrupted before she could inquire further. “Otherwise, I guess everything’s settled. Welcome to the team, meeting adjourned.” Tony finished abruptly before standing and making a beeline for the exit. “JARVIS can tell you both where to pick up your confiscated gear. Steve will schedule training and combat assessments for the two of you. Play nice, everyone!” The man threw out over his shoulder on the way out.

“Well. That happened.” James leaned back in stunned bemusement.

Shepard barked out a bitter laugh.

* * *

 

Later that night, Shepard went back to the conference room to meet with Stark. The man had been semi-true to his word. He’d given back _most_ of her confiscated weapons and possessions. Her omni-tool had been conspicuously absent. Upon demanding the location of her missing device, JARVIS had haltingly informed her that the genius would return it to her after she answered his question (he’d apparently wanted to keep it as an incentive for her to cooperate). Thus, she was out of bed in the middle of the night to confront Stark where he’d proposed to meet.

He was sitting at the head of table with his fingers steepled menacingly like some B-rate villain straight out of a vid. Shepard would have found the comparison more amusing if her omni-tool hadn’t been lying hostage on the table in front of him.

“Well, you’ve got me alone for all the good it’ll do you. Cut the cloak and dagger bullshit and ask me your question, Stark.” Shepard ground out in irritation.

The genius paused briefly to collect his thoughts, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on your belongings over the past month,” Stark started pensively, “and I’ve yet to find anything about your weapons or your nonexistent past that makes any kind of sense. The tech in this thing in particular,” He nudged the device on the table, “has been responsible for a number of my sleepless nights lately. The design of it is almost _alien_ , if you catch my drift.” He emphasized indiscreetly.

Shepard crossed her arms and stared Stark down. “Is this your ‘subtle’ way of asking me if I’m an extra-terrestrial?” She deadpanned.

“Oh, there’s no subtle about it. This is me, straight up asking you if you are an alien. And you didn’t answer the question. So, are you?” His eyes shone excitedly as he leaned forward in his seat.

“And just what do you plan to do if I am?” Shepard questioned lowly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Nothing.” Stark answered guilelessly.

“And you expect me to believe that?” Shepard responded in mock amusement.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but aliens aren’t exactly uncommon around here lately.” Tony shot back immediately. “Sure it’d be interesting to know, but not something worth making a fuss over.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Knowledge for knowledge’s sake?” Shepard questioned incredulously. “That’s all you want?”

Tony hummed in eager acknowledgment.

“I’m an alien.”

Stark’s face lit up like Grunt’s had when she gave him his first shotgun. “Can you prove it?” He was almost bouncing in his seat.

“Yep.” Shepard snatched up her omni-tool when Stark slid it to her across the table.

“Well?” Tony encouraged impatiently after a beat of silence.

“I could prove it to you,” Shepard paused dramatically, “but I won’t.” She concluded vindictively. “I answered your question, Stark. That was the deal. And maybe I’m feeling a bit spiteful after this whole song and dance routine you made me go through.” She unashamedly admitted.

Stark stared at her in delighted perplexity. “Gonna play hard to get, huh? Alright, I’m game.” He accepted her refusal to answer as a challenge. “You’ll slip eventually, Shepard. And I’ll be waiting when that happens.”

Shepard snorted derisively. “Sure thing, Stark.” She acknowledged before heading back to bed.


	5. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble series of various Avengers interacting with Shepard after the events of the Shepard and the Soldier. Character/relationship-development centric.

“” = talking

‘’ = inner thoughts

* * *

 

James took a stabilizing breath as he sighted the target through his rifle’s scope. Idly bracing his shoulder for the imminent recoil, he pulled the trigger and watched as the mark’s ‘head’ exploded into chunks of watery pink viscera. He smirked in satisfaction before flicking the safety on.

“You know Shep, I really didn’t believe you when ya said this would be fun.” James called across the range as Shepard removed her noise-cancelling headphones. He reached up to pull off his own as she walked over to him.

Shepard’s lips turned up in an amused grin as she approached, her absurdly large sniper rifle cradled lovingly in her arms. She’d hardly left the shooting range since she’d gotten her weapons back. Said she’d felt worse than naked without her one-man arsenal. James could relate. “Shooting dummies is all well and good if you want some regular practice. But if you want a good time, you have to get a little creative.” She stopped beside him to stare admiringly at his thoroughly mutilated targets. They both watched as a sizable blob detached from the wall and hit the floor with a gratifying plop.

“Seriously though, why watermelons?” James’ face lit up with an infectious grin.

Shepard didn’t answer, instead shooting James a mischievous smirk before stowing her rifle on her back and vaulting over the range barrier. Purposefully striding to where a tarp had been placed to collect the majority of the sticky mess, Shepard crouched down to pick up several reasonably intact pieces. James’ brows rose in incredulity when Shepard returned and shoved a piece into his hand and began munching on her own chunk. Lazily spitting the seeds into her empty hand, Shepard teased, “Go on and take a bite you big baby, it won’t hurt. Just make sure there aren’t any leftover slugs before you swallow.”

“Pretty sure I’ve eaten worse than assassinated watermelons, thanks.” James drawled sardonically before taking a bite. Hydra hadn’t cared much about what they gave him so long it kept him going. He still shuddered to think about the period they’d spent testing his tolerance for contaminated food. This was preferable by far.

“Please tell me you didn’t do this just because you were too lazy to slice the damn things yourself.” He mumbled semi-incoherently around a mouthful of fruit.

Shepard frowned in mock offense before petulantly flicking one of her discarded seeds at James’ face. It stuck there for a second before slowly slipping down his cheek and falling to the floor. His eyes lazily slid to the side to glare at his friend from under a thunderous scowl.

“I’m not lazy you overgrown _pyjak_.” Shepard protested indignantly. “Besides, this is more fun than cutting up watermelons anyway.”

James returned his gaze to the slushy pink carnage decorating the opposite end of the range. “Whatever you say, Shepard.” He agreed in a teasingly dubious tone.

After finishing their respective slices, both snipers went down the range to sit within easy reach of the mutilated melons. They spent a couple of minutes munching at their spoils in companionable silence. James absentmindedly tapped his foot against Shepard’s leg from where he was seated across from her. She glanced up at him quizzically.

Dopey grin plastered to his face, James said, “Hey, what was that story ya told me the one time? Somethin’ about Grunt and noodles? The end result kind of reminds me of this.” He jerked his head in the direction of the lumpy pink slush.

He watched as Shepard’s eyes widened slightly and her empty hand twitched before clenching in a white-knuckled fist on her thigh. ‘Had he said something wrong?’ James wondered in alarm.

“Shepard?” James gazed at her in growing concern as she hesitated further.

Her eyes came back into focus with abrupt intensity, all lighthearted playfulness gone. “About that,” she began haltingly, “an oversight of mine’s been brought to my attention recently. And I need to tell you something about those stories of mine before you hear it from someone else.” Shepard’s gaze drifted down to the seeds in her hand, which she began to toy with distractedly. James had been wondering how long it would take her to come clean about this.

“If it’s about your stories – I know they’re real.”

Shepard’s head jerked up to stare at James in wide-eyed shock. Her expression would have been hilarious if it wasn’t also tinged with barely-there panic and despair.

“What – ” She stuttered hoarsely.

“I didn’t notice at the beginnin’,” he admitted calmly, “because I was too caught up in the stories. You tell a damn good tale and it turns out I’m a sucker for sci-fi.” He graced her with a small, somber smile. “But when ya talk about your ‘characters’ – there’s so much emotion in your voice. They’re not characters to you. You know them. And you love them.” He concluded damningly, eyes kind.

Shepard’s face went tight as she swallowed convulsively. James got up and flopped down to sit next to her, a comforting line of heat from her hip to her shoulder.

“Your stories might be fantasy, but the people in ‘em are just as real as everyone I told ya about when we first met.” He murmured pensively, staring intently at a spot over her shoulder.

Shepard tilted her head down and hiked her shoulders up as they started to tremble. Before he could say anything else, she started chuckling lowly, head gently swinging from side-to-side.

“Well, you’re half-right, kid.” She conceded with a nervous smile, gaze fixed on the floor. “Everyone in those stories is real. Anderson, Mordin, Tali, Garrus – ” She choked up on the last name. “They’re all real people. But that’s not everything.”

She leaned harder into James’ side as he frowned uncertainly at her confession. Inhaling a shaky breath, she quietly confided, “It’s _all_ real, James. The mass relays, the aliens, the Citadel, the Normandy – everything I told you was true.” She huffed ruefully. “Turns out I’m just as bad at bullshitting stories as you are. What a pair we make, huh kid?”

Shepard was unsurprised when she felt James detach from her side to turn and face her fully. The kid didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her long and hard. “You’re not lying.” He concluded unhappily. “But Shepard, what you’re saying – how’s it even possible?   I know I was outta the loop for a while there, but I’m pretty sure I woulda noticed if humans were out cavortin’ with friendly aliens. Thor excluded, of course”

Shepard understood why he didn’t take her word at face value. It would be a tough tale for anyone to swallow on faith, let alone a guy whose memories were unreliable on the best of days. Luckily, she’d accounted for that in the event that she ever decided to tell anyone the truth.

“You’re right.” Shepard acknowledged as she activated her omni-tool and input her identification and security codes. He jumped at the sudden appearance of the bright orange interface. James had seen it before but never failed to startle at its abrupt appearance. “The only aliens you’ve seen here have been denizens of the Nine Realms or…the Chitauri.” Her face twisted in distaste at the mention of the infamous species. “I’m really glad we didn’t have to deal with those _things_ on top of everything else in my world.”

Shepard gave the kid a good ten seconds to properly process what she just said. “Your world?” He parroted warily, eyes tight with uncertainty.

“Ever heard of the many-worlds interpretation? Theories of the multiverse?” She queried before bringing up the appropriate file on her display. James eyes widened first in astonishment and then unbridled fascination as he feverishly devoured the image in front of him. Unthinking, he pulled her arm closer to get a better look.

“Are those – ” he unsteadily pointed at the inhuman figures.

“My crew – my family. Yeah.” Shepard confirmed humbly, bittersweet gaze glued to the holographic portrait. It was the only photo she had of everyone – _almost_ everyone together. She gave yet another mental sigh of relief that Stark hadn’t managed to access her ‘tool while he’d had it in his possession. She didn’t know what she’d have done if the abrasive man had confronted her with something so personal. Or worse, managed to damage the files.

“Wait, is that – that one’s Garrus, isn’t it! Damn, those scars… And those two – are they krogan? You really weren’t kiddin’ when ya said they were built like tanks, Jesus, the _size_ of those things! And there’s the asari and quarian – ” He cut off abruptly while gently cradling her arm in his grasp. “But if you came here, don’t you have a way back?” He murmured weakly, unconsciously tightening his grip on her arm.

“Hah. Good one, kid.” Shepard forced out around the lump in her throat. Her mouth twisted into a parody of a grin. “Universe jumping – well, it’s a bit out of my wheelhouse to put it lightly. Was a freak accident when it happened the first time. Probably couldn’t do it again if I tried.” She barked out a harsh laugh. “And I can guarantee you they won’t be looking for me back home. This is so far out of the realm of possibility, we weren’t even aware it was an option. No, they’ve probably got me listed as KIA by now. Wouldn’t be the first time…” She trailed off somberly.

“I’m sorry.” James uttered, shamefaced. He shouldn’t have felt so relieved that Shepard wasn’t going anywhere when the same fact made her so unhappy. But she was the first person he’d chosen to trust after Hydra, his closest confidant. He didn’t think he could handle it if she just up and left. Not yet.

Her omni-tool flickered off as she turned her arm over in his grip and grasped his wrist gratefully. “Yeah. Me too. Don’t think I’ll ever stop missing them all.” She’d certainly never stopped missing her original family. Shepard’s mouth went tight with old grief. When would she finally stop losing people?

The two sat in contemplative silence for a moment, each reminiscing over what they’d lost. James broke the silence first when he asked, “Does anyone else know? About all of this, I mean.” He gestured to encompass all of her.

“Not many. It’s not something you just drop in casual conversation, you know?” James snorted in agreement. “Stark guessed. He knew my tech wasn’t terrestrial, confronted me about it privately as my ‘induction’ into the Avengers. And he hasn’t brought it up, but JARVIS knows too. He’s Tony’s assistant and he hears everything that goes on in the Tower, isn’t that right JARVIS?” Shepard addressed the AI directly.

“You are correct, Shepard.” JARVIS’ voice emanated from the speakers sheepishly.

Shepard shot James a chiding grin as he jumped. “First rule of the super-secret alien club. Never underestimate AI.” She could practically feel JARVIS’ pleased embarrassment at her praise.

“Not much of an alien club when none of the members are actually aliens.” James interjected huffily. Steve and Shepard always said he got snippy when caught off guard.

“Well, technically…” Shepard trailed off with a smug smirk.

“No, come on! Just because you’re from an alternate Earth doesn’t make you an alien.” James argued insistently.

“I too must admit to a measure of curiosity regarding your extraterrestrial claims.” JARVIS inserted. “As a denizen of Earth, you can hardly declare yourself to be an alien among your own people. Yet you insistently defended your status as such to Mr. Stark. Why?”

Shepard chuckled, cheeks dimpling in humor. “Don’t be so narrow-minded, guys. The human definition of an alien is just a person born outside of Earth. I was born on a small agricultural colony on the planet of Mindoir. So technically, I’m not an Earthling.”

James suppressed his curiosity regarding planetary colonization in order to give Shepard the deadpan expression her response deserved. “Are ya sure you’re not some kinda space lawyer? You’re awful fond of playin’ with your words.”

“Indeed, Shepard. I can scarcely imagine the look on Mr. Stark’s face when he hears your eloquently literal interpretation.”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re not gonna be the first one there to record his tantrum when he finds out. I know you better than that, JARVIS.” Shepard accused reproachfully.

“I never claimed otherwise.” The AI responded cheerily. “Though I also look forward to the expression on Mr. Stark’s face when he sees what has become of his state-of-the-art ballistics range.”

Shepard and James turned as one to look at the pink splattered dummies. “We may not have thought this through.” James muttered regretfully.

“Don’t be a whiner James, that’s what the tarp’s for. All we gotta do is scrub off the dummies and the walls, the floor’s covered. Now come on, let’s get a move on and clean this up before Stark comes out from his man cave.” Shepard snagged one last piece of fruit before standing up. “On your feet, soldier. And thanks. For believing me.” She clapped his shoulder gratefully as he lurched to his feet.

“Just returnin’ the favor Shepard.”


End file.
